As she had designed, her comment brought a gasp of outrage from Lady Helena and a scowl, quickly hidden, from her abigail. “I-I should expect so, Your Grace,” Lady Helena said with a panicked glance toward Eugenia. “I believe I am fruitful.”
“Good girl, Lady Helena. I feel you can be a true asset to this family.”
Augusta eyed the auburn-haired girl, at her wide hips and suspected she was indeed well built for having children, even if she had no more backbone than her mother.That, however, matters little.Lady Helena's abigail merely stared at her, unflinching, even when Augusta sent her one of her most penetrating gazes. Those never failed to have Wilmot quivering in his boots like a frightened bird.
“I know you will produce a son for this family, Lady Helena,” Augusta continued. She calmly sipped her tea. “If you are indeed selected to marry into it.”
“I certainly hope so,” Lady Helena tried to find some semblance of courage and blinked her tears away.
“Most excellent, my dear. Now I have spoken to your mother regarding some of your other qualifications. They seem to be in order, as you were gently bred and have learned how to manage a household. I, however, would like to see an example of your embroidery.”
Lady Helena's mouth fell slack. “Embroidery?”
“Must I repeat myself? Yes, ladies of this household must be able to stitch properly. I trust you brought your embroidery with you from London?”
Lady Helena shook her head. “I-I did not.”
“Pity. Then I will provide you with the items you need, and tomorrow, at ten o’clock sharp, you will join me in the solar. There, you and I will spend time together stitching like the proper ladies we are.”
Augusta observed Lady Helena's expression at this pronouncement and felt satisfaction at what she saw. The girl looked as though she had bitten into a sour apple and could not spit the piece out without shaming herself. Her dark-haired maid kept her own face carefully neutral, although she continued to watch Augusta.
She picked up her cup. “You may leave me now.”
The two curtseyed, then Lady Helena all but ran from her chambers. Her abigail followed quickly, but not out of fear of Augusta. No doubt she would comfort her mistress, for Augusta knew perfectly well that spending the day embroidering was not what Lady Helena wanted to do.
She knew Lady Helena walked in terror of her, and that is exactly where Augusta wanted her.
Chapter 9
Whistling, Maximilian strolled from the castle to the stables, enjoying the bright, warm day, one of the few that remained before full autumn fell upon them. He considered having a groom saddle a horse so he might ride across the moors but decided he would ride later. He greeted Fergus cheerfully as the head groom bowed.
“Your Grace,” Fergus said. “I permitted it as I did not think you would mind.”
Maximilian stopped. “I would not mind what?”
“That wee lass that was here the other day,” he said, holding his cap in his hand. “The maid to the young lady. She wished to play with the foals, and I granted her wish.”
“You are quite right, Fergus.” Maximilian smiled “I do not mind at all. Where is she?”
“At the moment, she is with the wee bay you are so fond of.”
“Thank you.”
Ah, a few moments alone with her.Ever since he had seen Lady Helena's maid, he had been intrigued by the dark-haired girl. She was not just extraordinarily beautiful, she also carried herself with natural poise and grace. Nor was she intimidated by him, a trait he admired. Something about her drew him toward her, like a lodestone to iron, and his thoughts often turned to her rather than Lady Helena.
Making his way down the aisle, he slowed when he heard a girl’s voice. Keeping out of sight for the moment, he listened, even if eavesdropping was extremely rude. Wildly curious as to what she was saying, he leaned against the stall next door, tilting his head toward the one the girl was in. He held his index finger to his mouth in a shushing gesture when a few grooms paused in their labor to eye him.
“Did I tell you, you look like a mule?” he heard her ask. “Those huge ears. Must be mule ears for certain.”
Grinning from ear to ear, Maximilian kept his laughter inward and thus silent.
“But I am told you will grow into those big ears,” she went on. “Hard to believe just by looking at them. Oh, dear, did I offend you? Come here and I will scratch your pretty neck. You are such a strong, handsome horse. I so wish you were mine.”
Stepping quietly, Maximilian stood in front of the stall where Miss Betham currently and busily scratched the bay colt’s neck. As her back was to him, she did not see him. Bent over the baby, her braid swinging down over her shoulder, she scratched and rubbed the colt all over as his mother placidly dined on her hay. When the bay mare turned her head to look at him, her ears forward, Miss Betham paused and glanced over her shoulder to see what caught her attention.
She straightened instantly. “Your Grace!”
“Please.” Maximilian smiled. “Do not stop on my account.”
